So I'm sound asleep Tuesday morning, like usual. Okay, maybe it was late Tuesday morning, but whatever. It's not like you're surprised by that, right? And all of a sudden I hear the doorbell ring. And without a moment's hesitation, decide to ignore it.
Back when we lived in the last house on a dead-end gravel road in nowhere'sville, I could hear visitors coming to the house from the gravel crunch of their cars. It happened about once a month. It was usually someone lost who turned around in our driveway and turned away. The only door-to-door folks I ever actually saw at the house during the day were Jehovah's Witnesses. Since moving "to town" 18 months ago, the people ringing the doorbell during the day has increased exponentially. And you know what? I almost never want to talk to them! Sometimes up to three times a day. A minimum of twice a week. I kid you not.
So ignoring it was absolutely the right thing to do. As I'm drifting back to blissful sleep...I hear something else...the squirrels on the roof again?? Grrr. The dogs hear it too and start barking. The squirrel sounds like it's gained weight. Like 150 pounds of weight. Whaaaa?
This, I can not ignore. Someone's clearly trying to break into my house via my chimney, and Santa's the only one allowed that entrance. I stumble into the bright light of day, my hair roughly akin to Medusa, mis-matched jammies, and really grumpy. And there he is. A man on my roof. A chipper man on my roof, smiling and CHIPPER. I want to push him off the roof. Instead..."You're on my roof."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you."
"WHY are you on my roof?"
"Um, Cynthia Somethingorother?"
"904 Street Name?"
"OH BOY...I don't suppose you want a free roof estimate??"
Yup, Roofing Dude had the wrong roof. Now the ultimate irony of this is, when I told Mom all about it, the first thing she had to say was, "Did you get an estimate?"